


It Started With a Glance

by emeraldeye



Series: Azalea Trevalyan, Inquisitor [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldeye/pseuds/emeraldeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azalea and Cullen notice each other, but neither are willing to speak to the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glances

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after the first attempt at closing the breach has taken place, but before the mages and Templars have been sorted out.

Azalea was sitting on the stone wall on the outskirts of Haven, her back to the wooden palisade as she watched the soldiers train. And one particular commander training them. The sight was something to behold especially to the Circle raised girl who had until recently never left Ostwick. She wasn't as sheltered as some of the circle girls, she had had sex before. Once. And she wasn't sure if she had even loved the man. Oh she had been fond of him and trusted him, but love? In truth she didn't really know what love was and she hadn't had the chance to find out. He had tried to kill her before they had the chance. Remembering that made Azalea grimace in distaste. She had mourned Derrek and what could have been, she had had two months to do so, but it still hurt and made her look at all templars in a new light. Even this Commander Cullen, who she had barely spoken two words to so far. She could not deny how he attracted her - tall, blonde, muscled physic, and she couldn't deny that part of the attraction was his templar abilities - but it was also all of that that scared her. Azalea sighed. She would think that she had had enough of running to templars after what they had done.

Pushing away from the wall she landed with a soft thud, the powder-like snow coming to her ankles. She smiled at the sight, snow still being something of a novelty to her. Oh she could create ice on a whim, she was quite talented with ice spells, or so First Enchanter Lydia had said while she was tutoring Azalea. But it was one thing to understand the theory enough to create ice, it was another thing entirely to see it falling down from the sky naturally. It coated the mountainous landscape around them and, were it not for the green-hued breach in the sky, the sight would be simply spectacular. 

Deciding she should make herself useful rather than sitting around daydreaming, Azalea started off towards the trees, picking elf root as she went. The plant was common enough but was used in so many healing recipes in so many different ways that they never seemed to have enough of it. There was to be a council meeting later today where they would discuss the ongoing mage and templar war and a possible lead of someone who may be willing to help them, but Azalea had time yet. She wouldn't stray too far, of course, but there was plenty to find just in and around Haven.

It was perhaps an hour later that she made her way back to town. Cullen was still training the troops and a part of her longed to go up and talk to him, to strike up a conversation. But then what would they talk about? Azalea had never been the kind of woman who was good at holding idle conversation and even if she was, she got the feeling such a thing would only annoy the commander, especially while he was busy training the troops. With a sigh she walked past without saying anything, intent on giving the elfroot she had gathered to Adan. 

* * *

 

Cullen watched the mage as she first left Haven and then came back once more carrying a bag of something. She was... Interesting. He had had Lelliana's agents look into her background and what they had found was different to what he had expected. Being that she was with the rebelling mages' delegation he fully expected her to be either from one of the circles that had had troubles of that nature in the past, Kirkwall or Feralden perhaps, or at the very least to have been a trouble maker. But she was neither of those things. Rather the reports he had received seemed to indicate that she enjoyed living at the Circle. She rarely petitioned to leave, and when she did it was only to visit family on name days or religious celebrations, always observed the chant of light, and was the Ostwick's First Enchanter's apprentice while she had been learning. She didn't have so much as a sneaking out of the dormitory at night infraction against her name. However, Lelliana's agents hadn't been able to establish what had caused the Templars to enact the rite of annulment against the Ostwick circle, nor how she and her fellow mages had escaped and wound up with the rebels. And now, it was likely that the only person who knew was Azalea herself since all her comrades had died at the conclave and she wasn't particularly forthcoming in talking about herself. 

"Shield up!" Cullen called out, as much to cover his own wandering mind as to remind the soldier to protect himself. 

They had a meeting later today and Cullen couldn't help but wonder how Azalea would react to it. Of course, being a mage, he was sure that she would be more sympathetic to their cause, but at the same time, she had avoided the few mages at Haven, even talking to Minaeve very little and only regarding research of the rams and druffalo they had killed for their meat and leather. Cullen shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Sir?" his lieutenant asked, puzzled by his commander's actions.

"Get me a practice sword," he commanded.

Untying his cloak and tossing it aside, he took the offered sword saying, "Take over Lieutenant," before moving around the tents to where he could hear a distinctly female voice grunting with exertion. For a moment or two he watched as Cassandra fought the dummy before her. She was good, but then he didn't expect anything less; seekers went through similar training to templars after all. 

"Care to fight something that will hit back?" he offered.

Cassandra paused in her fighting and looked up, a half smile on her lips. Her inclining head and the action of raising her weapon into a ready position was acquiescence enough so Cullen moved in. Unlike Cassandra, he hadn't yet warmed up so to begin with they took it easy. When both could tell he was warmed up enough the speed picked up, as did the ferocity of the attacks and the strength of their defence. For a while they merely spared in silence, both enjoying the rhythm of the combat and taking advantage of the clear head it required. Cullen hadn't spoken much to Cassandra recently but he knew she felt the loss of the Divine and their current situation just as strongly as he did, perhaps even more so being that she had interacted with her a lot more. 

Eventually though, Cullen broke the silence. "Our mage Herald, what do you think of her? Do you think the Maker sent her?" he asked, parrying one of her strikes. 

"That is two different questions," Cassandra said, striking out once more, low this time. Cullen darted away as she continued. "Yes, I believe the Maker sent her. Do I believe that was Andraste behind her in the Fade? I don't know. I do not think it matters. She is what we needed when we needed it." Their dance of swords continued for a little while Cassandra gathered her thoughts. "As for what I think of her, it is hard to say, she hasn't been particularly open. But she has been willing to help from the start, even more so when she learned that she could help, that her mark would close the rifts. That, to me, is more important than whether I like her personally or not. Why do you ask?"

Cullen swung high and Cassandra dodged easily, her sword flicking out almost contemptuously in response. "She is more important to the inquisition than she acts. I wanted to know if I needed to have her watched, if she could be trusted. She did arrive with the rebel mages after all."

"As opposed to the rebel templars?" Cassandra countered, both in words and in swords. "I don't believe you have anything to worry about there. She wants to help, she sees the importance of closing the breach, that is what is important. Now are you going to fight me or continue gossiping?"

Cullen smiled at the teasing and renewed his efforts once more, this time in silence.


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea is having trouble coping with being forced to kill for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after the inquisitor has spoken to Mother Giselle but is yet to choose a side in the mage/Templar war.

Azalea awoke with a gasp, her body coated in a cold sweat, still seeing the phantoms in the dark crowding around her. _It was a dream. It was just a dream,_ her rational mind kept repeating like its own prayer but, despite that, she couldn't get the images out of her mind. Throwing back the covers she stood and paced around the room, a hand gesture lighting the torches and lamps as she went, bathing the one roomed cabin she called her own in light. It would get easier, logic said it would. After all, soldiers killed all the time and if they were wracked with nightmares every night then they would be tired all the time and end up getting killed themselves. 

It wasn't enough. She felt trapped in her room, trapped in a way that she hadn't since Cassandra had captured her believing her to have killed the Divine. Throwing on a pair of pants and a loose shirt, not even bothering with a breast band or in tying up her hair, Azalea left the cabin. She was immediately struck by the cold - there was a biting wind and it was snowing again - but instead of causing her to retreat back inside, it seemed to revitalize her. For a moment or two she simply stood there, eyes closed, face turned up, feeling the wind whip through her clothing as though she were naked. She could very well be, she had forgotten to pull on boots. Instead of going back inside to get some though, she turned and trudged barefoot up the hill towards the chantry, the painful cold helping to keep her grounded. Haven was practically deserted at this time of night, well past midnight. There were only a few campfires around with some soldiers sitting by them. Most only spared her a passing glance before going back to whatever they were doing. Azalea didn't even spare them that. She was focussed entirely on the icy sensations whipping her body and getting to the chantry. It was all in her head, she knew, but she could have sworn that the wind had changed to icy fingers stroking her cheek and she was grateful to open the large wooden doors to the Chantry and slip inside. 

It was still cold inside, but, to Azalea's cold skin, it felt almost painfully warm and her feet were stinging as they carried her across the red carpet towards the large statue of Andraste. She took a seat in front of the statue and brought her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. History had taught her that Haven used to be inhabited by cultists who believed that a dragon was Andraste, until the Hero of Feralden had driven them away and found the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Azalea wondered if the Hero of Ferelden had ever felt as she did now, lost, like she was a fraud and soon everyone would be able to tell, haunted by those she had killed. Hugging her knees tighter, Azalea stared up at the serene statue before her, the statue of who she was supposed to be a herald for. How? How was she supposed to be a goddess's avatar? The Maker had never spoken to her, nor had Andraste. She couldn't remember what had happened in the breach; surely if she was saved by Andraste it would be something she would remember. And surely Andraste would not have supported in her killing others who just happened to believe different things to what she did. 

"Trevelyan?"

Azalea started at the voice and looked over her shoulder. It was Commander Cullen. Feeling a blush rise at being caught so she turned back to the statue before her, hoping he would leave. Part of her was nervous at being alone and unarmed around another templar. She didn't think Cullen was the type to hate mages on principal and want to destroy her, if only because she was useful to the inquisition, but then she didn't think Derrek would try to kill her the very night after they had shared a bed together either. It just proved how terrible she was at reading people.

She heard footsteps approach and hunched her shoulders, as though trying to hide from the commander. Without a staff she had no defence against him should he try anything but maybe-

Azalea flinched when Cullen rested a hand on her shoulder, but nothing more came of it, no deadening of her magic, no force, no attack. 

"Maker, you're freezing! Your toes are blue," he said. Azalea glanced at her feet. That her toes were blue was a bit of an exaggeration but her toe nails were definitely a bruised blue colour. She gave an uncaring shrug but the commander unpinned his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. Instinctively, she tugged it about herself. It smelled of him, she realized with a touch of embarrassment, a kind of masculine tang, leather, and over it all that unique spice of lyrium that all templars smelled like. Cullen had moved around in front of her and had knelt down, cupping one of her feet in both his hands, rubbing to get some warmth into them. "What's possessed you to come out so late, and without any shoes for Maker's sake?" he asked.

Azalea considered saying nothing, she had to keep up the façade, she knew that, she had to appear in control, sure of her actions. Meeting with Mother Giselle had proved that to her. Even though she wasn't the leader of the Inquisition, if anyone was it was Cassandra in Azalea's mind, people still looked up to her for guidance as the Herald. Commander Cullen was the leader of all their military forces, if he saw her as weak it would leak into all their forces and that would be the end of it. But, looking up a little and seeing what looked to her like genuine concern in his eyes, made her reconsider. Who else would understand better than him? He had been in Circles, he knew how sheltered some of the mages in them were. He also had to keep up appearances for the moral of the troops he led. And he no doubt had gone through the killing for the first time thing.

"Nightmares," she eventually said, though she looked down, still feeling somewhat ashamed to have had to admit it.

The commander gave a grunt. "That is something I know all too well," he said, his voice deep. He let go of the foot he had been rubbing, letting it rest on his knee as he took the other one and began rubbing it as well. It hurt at first, as sudden heat to a cold limb always did, but it soon felt good as well. And the warm comfort of his cloak was also something that she found made her feel safe. Like how templars used to make her feel, safe, warm, and protected to carry out her research in peace. "Do you want to talk about it? I understand if you don't but sometimes speaking it aloud can make it seem less real."

"Do you talk about yours?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he said. "Usually just to myself, or in prayer though." Satisfied that her feet were warm once again, he returned them to where they had been on the pew and flicked his cloak over them before sitting down next to her. 

"I kept seeing the... Faces of those I had killed yesterday. Pointing and accusing at me. And their families mourning and blaming me and blaming the inquisition. I had tried to keep track of them, tried to at least count them so I could light candles for them when I returned, but I couldn't, there were too many," Azalea said, her throat constricting at the last and she lowered her forehead to her knees, hiding her face and her shame.

There was silence for a minute or so, but when Cullen spoke, there was a touch of surprise in his voice. "Have you never killed anyone before yesterday?" he asked.

Azalea shook her head. 

"Not even when you left the circle?"

She shook her head again. "In the circle I used ice to lock their feet in place and ran, and when my magic was severed I used a staff to deflect any attacks but I was knocked out fairly quickly. And yesterday..." She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, still not looking up even as the words poured out of her. "For the most part I tried to support those who were with me, I cast barrier spells and ice traps and things that made it easier for them to do the killing. But then I got separated from the others, they were fighting some templars, but mages came up behind us. I tried telling them not to fight us, to stand down, that the inquisition could give them something worth fighting for, but it was as though they didn't hear me and they attacked. The others were too far away to help in time and I couldn't just be defensive, I would tire too quickly. I had to attack and my normal immobilizing tactics wouldn't work because they would just continue attacking me from where they stood. I... I froze them, and they shattered. Bloody icy shards going everywhere. And it was easy. It was done, threat gone and I could focus on helping my friends again. I told myself that I would remember how I had killed those three men, I would light a candle and let their families know if I could. But there was so much fighting going on, no one was willing to listen, and I killed more and more and I lost count. I try to remember some, but there must be some I've forgotten, and what crueller thing is there, than to simply forget who you have stolen the life from?" Azalea stopped suddenly, her throat catching. At some point the commander had put his arm around her shoulders and his thumb was moving up and down, trying to comfort her. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I wish I could say that it will get better, but it won't. Just know that you did the right thing, you did what you had to do."

"How can you say that? I've _killed_ people, their life is over, they have no chance now to atone for what they may have done, no chance to say goodbye to loved ones, no chance to make the world better."

"You're right," he said. "They cannot do any more. But it also means they won't do any more harm. Had they lived, they might have done better. But they might have made everything worse as well. We can't know. What we do know is what we're presented with, an attacking, unreasonable force trying to harm those we hold dear. And so we defend them in whatever way we can. They are doing the same. It is the way of war Trevelyan, surely you would know that from your brothers at least."

"It's one thing to know the theory of it. It's another thing entirely to be on one side, killing the other," she said quietly.

The commander gave a bark of laughter. "That is is," he said. 

They sat in silence for a time, Azalea thinking over what the commander told her. It was true, she knew that. If she hadn't killed those people she didn't know what they may have done. But more than that, she would have tired even faster and then been unable to protect those who were with her. 

"Do the others know?" Cullen asked into the silence.

Azalea raised her face, resting her chin this time on her knees, staring at the statue of Andraste. "Varrik suspects," she said. "I think he could tell something was wrong, he asked if I was alright and then kept looking at me funny after I assured him I was fine. I don't think Cassandra or Solas noticed, or if they did they didn't care. One more thing to worry about in a world gone mad. You won't tell them will you? About this or any of it?" she asked, turning her head to the side to see him, suddenly worried he would do just that.

He wasn't looking at her though as he shook his head. "I wont mention it if you don't want me to."

"Thank you," she said, returning her gaze to the statue.

Once more they lapsed into silence. Azalea allowed herself to breath slowly and deeply, filling her lungs until they felt as though they were bursting, then letting it out slowly. Such breathing exercises had always relaxed her and calmed her mind while in the circle, it was a wonder she hadn't thought to use it before now. She could feel herself growing tired but, not wanting to make the trek back to her cabin, she simply rested her forehead on her knees and closed her eyes, intending to meditate a little, certainly not intending to fall asleep, leaning against the commander as she did.

***

Cullen glanced sideways when he felt Trevelyan lean against him and was only mildly surprised to find she had fallen asleep. Instead of waking her though, he let her stay where she was for now and merely returned to his own thoughts. This was the first time they had spoken for any length of time and part of him was glad that they had even if he wasn't glad about the circumstances that had brought it about. He felt as though he had gotten to know Trevelyan a lot more just through this talk than he could have by reading Lelliana's dry impersonal reports. She seemed a lot more like a person with all the hopes and fears that went along with it rather than a know-it-all mage who happened to have a unique mark on her hand. He was beginning to see that the distance she kept from everyone was her way of dealing with what was happening. 

They sat there for an hour or so, with the sun just peaking up over the mountains and the candles on the altar burning low before Cullen thought to move. He didn't want to wake Trevelyan though, nor take her out into the snow once more. Instead he gently lifted her and carried her to his own room. It wasn't like he would be getting any more sleep tonight anyway. Leaving his cloak around her, he added a blanket and left her to sleep, closing the door quietly behind him. Once outside though and without any chance of waking her he started pacing. 

What Trevelyan had said was unexpected; all of them had assumed she would have no problems in the Hinterlands, both physically able to defend herself - which she did naturally - but also with killing those who needed to. It seemed they were wrong on at least one part of that. They had assumed that she had killed before, that she would be able to handle it. But it seemed that all their assumptions had caused this very problem. They had assumed and not asked. And Cullen blamed himself more than any one else. He should have known, should have guessed. She came from a noble family, she never had to fight to survive, and as soon as her powers manifested she was sent to a Circle, and a peaceful one at that. He knew that most mages lived a sheltered life, very few even aware of what was going on in the world around them, let alone partake in any of it. With a few exceptions, circles were often worlds of their own, completely apart from the rest of society. He knew this, and yet it never occurred to him to think that perhaps Trevelyan was unready for what the Hinterlands offered. 

By their reports when they returned though, it seemed they had done well. The crossroads were secure, Trevelyan had spoken with Mother Giselle who genuinely seemed willing to help them get the chantry off their backs, and they were well on their way to securing horses for the Inquisition. But that only meant that Trevelyan had pushed what she was feeling aside until she felt safe enough to feel it, obviously when they all returned to Haven. He would have to alert Lelliana and Josephine to this, quietly of course, and see if they couldn't come up with a way for her to get used to taking such charge and the effects that it would bring in a gentler way. Perhaps dealing with the mages and templars would be best. They needed at least one of them, preferably both on their side to have any hope in closing the breach, maybe dealing with them would be a good way to harden Trevelyan, get her used to the demands that would be needed of her. At the very least, if this attempt was successful, she was one of the most powerful living mages and, as a key member of the inquisition, would have a strong say in how to move forward with the mages. She had to be ready for that and not let it break her. And he would ensure that she was ready.


	3. Mages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea conscripts the rebel mages into the inquisition but remains unsure if she made the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, so apologies for the fact that not much happens in it. The next one is half written and will be much better, promise :)

Azalea entered her home with a sigh and, walking across the floor she kicked one toe to the opposite heal and pulled off a boot before taking a step and doing the same to the other boot, leaving them both where they were. She lent her staff against the wall and then she was at her bed. With a groan she flopped face down on it, legs half hanging over the edge, just smelling the musty blanket smell she had started to associate with home. The last mission had been... hell, and she was sure that there would be a whole new round of nightmares to torment her sleep. 

She did get to see Val Rouyeax for the first time though, she remembered with a smile. The city had been spectacular! All these lords and ladies walking about in the highest of fashion, all wearing fancy masks and head dresses making Azalea and her party look positively drab by comparison in their travel-dirtied battle armour. And the architecture itself! All white shining buildings, but not the dirty white of Ostwick buildings, everything was gleaming and clean and trimmed in gold and crimson and beautiful! Azalea had the normal Free Marshes pride, she loved her homeland and the independence with which the Free Marshes governed themselves, but she had never before felt more of a country bumpkin out to the big city for a faire for the first time and it made her feel as though her homeland truly was backwards and, well, quaint. 

Their time in Val Rouyeax had been of mixed success. While they had gone there with the intent to at least talk to the Chantry, to try to make a few of them at least doubt what the common stance was, to believe that perhaps they were doing the right thing, instead the templars had shown their true colours, attacked the Mother who was addressing them, and stormed off, abandoning Val Rouyeax to its fate. That was hard to understand, it was so against what most templars believed in, but at least Azalea had had some experience with templars acting against what they were supposed to in Ostwick; it seemed like a much larger blow for Cassandra. 

On the upside, they had managed to recruit two more followers, one in particular with whom Azalea knew of at least by name, if not in person. Her mentor, First Enchanter Lydia, had mentioned her a time or two as a friend. Lady Vivienne was a mage to be respected and Azalea fully intended to seek her out later, to ask if she knew what had happened to Lydia; she hadn't been with the mages who had escaped the tower. Azalea suspected the woman was dead, but she didn't know for certain and figured that if anyone was to know it would be her friend Vivienne. Later though. Now she just wanted to rest.

Azalea had been fully ready to follow the templars to find out what was going on with Lord Seeker Lucius and to try to convince them to join the Inquisition. After all, mages needed templars, it had always been so, who better to protect against possession than one immune to magic? And they would be ideal for weakening the breach enough for Azalea to try again to close it. But that all changed when she went to Redcliff to meet First Enchanter Fiona. What was going on there... Azalea shuddered. She couldn't just leave and ignore it. Not if what that Tevinter mage Dorian had said was true. Time magic! Such a thing should be well into the realms of impossibility. But more worrying to Azalea was that the Tevinters had gained control of all the rebel mages and seemed to be planning something sinister with them. That had to be dealt with first, she could try to reason with the templars afterwards if she could but such magic couldn't be allowed to run rampant. 

So she had chosen to focus her attention on the mages first. And been sent forward in time. 

Azalea's mind instinctively shied away from those memories. They were not pleasant, seeing how her friends had been captured, tortured, red lyrium changing their very being. 

But, with Dorian's help, they had succeeded in being sent back to their normal time and in stopping Magister Alexius from doing any more harm, as well as bring the mages in to help with the breach, albeit as prisoners rather than allies. Dorian hadn't like that, said it was repeating history, but Azalea didn't know what else to do; the rebel mages had taken over Redcliff after the conclave, turning out the inhabitants to the tender mercies of any bandits that decided to take what they could. There had to be some kind of repercussion, that was obvious and Azalea had taken the lead of Queen Anora. The queen had had far more experience in leading and making fast decisions than Azalea had and she was clearly not happy with what had happened by the fact that she wanted to banish the mages from her lands altogether. There had to be some kind of justice and conscripting the mages to the inquisition was the best that Azalea could come up with at the time. Was it the right thing? She didn't know. Hopefully it would be enough but only time would tell.


	4. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven has been attacked and Azalea only just escaping with her life as she draws the attention of Corypheus to give the others a chance to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains obvious spoilers and covers some of the game itself, with a minor change :)

"You expect us to surrender and kneel. We will not. You'll face us all. When we choose!" 

Azalea turned to the side and kicked the trebuchet into motion. Her action surprised Corypheus enough that he was distracted from her, following the arch of the boulder as it rose and then fell into the mountain, sending an avalanche of snow and ice rumbling down the mountain. The sound was incredible and she could feel the vibration through her feet as it drew ever closer, the roar growing louder and louder until it was all she could hear. She turned and ran. It was hopeless, a silly instinct to try to outrun such a force, but it was that instinct that likely saved her life as she tripped but, instead of slamming into the ground as expected, she fell through a mine shaft she didn't know was there, falling, falling, then slam into the ground and the world went dark.

Sometime later, Azalea had no way of knowing how long, she became aware of her surroundings once more, and aware of the pain radiating throughout her body, ribs, head, arm, hand, it all hurt. But pain meant that she was alive. She was alive when she was supposed to have been dead. Slowly, an arm cradling her tender ribs, she rose to a sitting position and looked around. She was in some kind of cavern, though natural or man made she didn't know. The doorway in front of her was definitely not natural but it was old. Climbing unsteadily to her feet she figured it would be better to follow it, either up to the surface or down to the Deep Roads, than stay here and freeze to death. As she was approaching the archway though she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Azalea spun towards it, wincing as the sudden movement sent a lance of pain through her chest and dreading yet another confrontation. 

"Meow."

Azalea almost laughed at herself hearing that and she knelt down. "Hey little guy," she said quietly. "What are you doing out here?" She held a hand out and a small furry paw poked out from under the piles of broken wood. 

"Are you stuck?" How a cat had gotten down here she had no idea, but there was no way she could just leave it behind when Haven was destroyed. She pulled the shards of wood away, slowly revealing orange, black, and white fur. There was a little bit of blood on its hip but it didn't seem too bad and, as soon as it was freed it stood and walked without assistance. Right towards Azalea. 

"I guess you and I better try and find a way out of here, huh," she said. Picking up the cat she put her (she checked) down the front of her top. It was the warmest place for both of them she decided, and the cat seemed to like it, purring as she stuck her head out through the neck of her armour. 

Climbing to her feet once more, Azalea slowly made her way through the tunnels. She had no idea where she was going or if the tunnel would ever lead out, but moving was preferable to staying still. She knew from the flare that had gone up that Cullen managed to get the people out of Haven, thank the Maker, so at least that part was successful even if the dragon had carried Corypheus away before the avalanche had swallowed him. She supposed defeating someone who claimed to be a god wouldn't be that easy but it was still a disappointment. "Just focus on the now," she told herself quietly. There was no point worrying about what might have been when she may yet not survive the coming hours. 

Rounding a corner Azalea felt hope surge in seeing an exit to the tunnels. "There," she said to herself as she hastened towards it. Coming towards another cavern though she skidded to a halt. Demons. A lot of them. And her staff had been lost in the battle with Corypheus. She took a step back, and then another, but it was too late, they had seen her, and with a screech they launched their own attack. Azalea hastily threw up a barrier and was about to ready an ice trap before her when her hand flared with pain. Gasping, she looked at it bewildered; it hadn't hurt since they managed to close the breach, well except when Corypheus had tried to remove it from her. It didn't make sense that it would hurt now. But then as she watched, she could see the magic around it was being sucked into it, she could almost hear the singing as it did so. An idea forming, she flicked her hand forward the same way she used when she would close a rift. To her amazement it worked: a green glow formed in the centre of the cavern and, with a screech all the demons were sucked into it before it disappeared. 

"Well. That's useful," she said to herself. The cat stuck her head out of her shirt again - she had hidden at the first sign of danger - and Azalea gave her a few pats before continuing on. 

She could see the exit now and hurried towards it as fast as her battered body could move. Outside she was hit with a blast of icy wind that stole the breath from her lungs. The cat, after flicking her ears back, tucked her head back inside Azalea's shirt. Azalea looked around and, finding a destroyed wagon, made towards it. There was nothing else to see, the world was white and the air freezing. She had to keep moving though, she knew from her studies the effects cold and ice had on one's body, if she didn't keep moving she would have no chance. 

Seeing a trail of debris she decided she should follow that. Likely it was from the escapees in Haven and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to catch up to them if she continued moving as quickly as her sore and battered body would allow. The cat against her stomach was a welcome source of heat and, as she waded through the snow, she held one arm against it to keep her more secure there and try to help ward off some of the cold.

***

"We have to go back!" Cullen demanded, his fist slamming down on the table with emphasis. 

"There is no way she could have survived that," Josephine countered wearily.

"And even if she did, how would we find her? The whole town has been buried under half a mountain of snow and ice," Lelliana added. 

"We have mages, let them melt through it! That being, Corypheus or whatever his name was, is gone, now is our chance!" Cullen said.

"Suppose we did waste a whole lot of time and effort in melting the snow over an entire town, dig out thousands of bodies and actually find hers, what then? It will achieve nothing," Lelliana snapped.

"Commander, I think we all need to accept that Trevelyan was very brave and gave her life to give us a chance. We shouldn't waste that opportunity in searching for a body, she wouldn't want that," Josephine said, trying to bring some calm to the whole situation. 

The same argument had been going around and around in circles every few hours, every time they stopped for a rest, Cullen would demand that they turn back to look for any sign of the Herald, and the others would convince him it was a wasted effort. Now night had fallen and the mountains were bitterly cold. It was likely they would lose a few more people and mounts tonight just from the cold, though they had made their camp where they had some shelter from the never ending wind. Cullen couldn't stand the thought that Trevelyan might be out there, alone and hurt somewhere, needing help, and the rest of the inquisition was willing to just abandon her. After all she had done for them and given up for them! It was unfortunate they said. Well damn the Maker if Cullen was going to put up with it any longer!

Without another word he pushed away from the table and entered his own tent, coming out wearing his thickets coat. 

"Commander? What are you doing?" Josephine asked. As if she didn't already know. 

"I'm going to go find her. You can all sit on your hands here if you want but I'm won't be able to sleep at night without at least trying. She is the only one who can close the rifts, without her there is no point. She has to be alive out there somewhere," he said, his voice impassioned though whether it was to convince them or himself he didn't know. 

***

Azalea was shivering violently now, her breath coming in ragged gasps, each time sending shards of pain down her throat. It was only the knowledge that if she stopped walking she would die that forced her to put one foot in front of the other. She had to keep moving. Sometimes it helped to imagine horrors were right behind her and, sadly, such images were easy to conjure up. All she had to do was remember the red lyrium infected templars who had attacked Haven, imagine them popping up from the snow and chasing her down. Or, sometimes perhaps, even Corypheus himself and his dragon hot on her tail. Or cold. Very cold. It was so very cold. 

She couldn't feel her hands or her face any more, and she had long since stopped feeling her feet. Her feet were just lumps of meat now that she lifted and placed, something to keep her upright. The little ball of warmth at her stomach was growing colder as well but she knew her stomach was the warmest place for the poor cat. 

One step. 

Another step. 

Another step. 

Left step.

Right step. 

Left step. 

Right. Or was it left? She couldn't remember any more, she just knew she had to keep moving. 

Vaguely she wondered what Cullen was doing. She smiled a little at the knowledge that at least he had gotten away. She didn't know what it was about him, but she felt that she could trust him. He inspired such trust and fellowship from the men and even Bull had acknowledged that it took real skill to train a group of people into an army, skill that Cullen had. But Derrek had been skilled too. Oh Derrek. Could she have seen his betrayal coming? Was it possible for her to have guessed it if she wasn't too busy thinking of having sex with him whenever she could next arrange it? They say men are blinded by their cock but Azalea was convinced she had done a pretty good male impersonation in that regard when it came to Derrek. He hadn't even shown any remorse or guilt in trying to kill her. She couldn't see his whole face but, as if time slowed down, she could see his eyes, those grey eyes she had once thought were deep but now she could only think they were cold. Not like Cullen's. Cullen had eyes the colour of honey, warm and sweet, just like he was. 

Like she was getting. She was warm. How had that happened? At some point she had stopped shivering, though she couldn't remember when. 

It didn't matter, she just had to keep moving. She was daydreaming about Cullen again. About how he had kept her warm in the chantry when she was plagued by nightmares, how he had supported her decision regarding the mages even when so many others didn't. How he had looked at her when she said what she was going to do, when she didn't answer about how she would get out after burying Corypheus. It had been with respect, understanding, some sadness yes but it was the respect that had stuck with her. When she first met him she was sure that he didn't like her, that he didn't trust her. To have earned that respect, the respect of a man who was himself highly respectable, was something she was grateful for. 

If she looked up she could even see him before her. She smiled. The cold really was getting to her now. She knew that, once she stopped shivering, she would fall asleep soon and never wake up. It was one of the things she had had to be careful about in the Circle, playing with ice magic. She could see him, running towards her as if to rescue her. Her knight in shining armour. She scoffed at the notion, even as her legs finally gave out from under her. She thought he said something, but she couldn't hear it beyond the roaring in her ears and soon it didn't matter anyway as darkness fell and she knew no more.


	5. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Members of the Inquisition work tirelessly to get Azalea warm again and save the Herald of Andraste after her nearly fatal escape from Corypheus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part 2. 
> 
> The story will continue in Part 3 from Skyhold where Azalea and Cullen's relationship takes a more serious turn :)

"Maker, she's turning blue," Cullen said as he pulled Trevalyan towards him, hugging her body towards his trying to get some heat into her. She was unconscious now, but she had been walking, or rather stumbling, towards them when he first spotted her. If he hadn't insisted on coming out here to find her... Well, that didn't bare thinking about.

"I'll go get a bed ready for her," Cassandra said, turning and running back to the camp while Cullen lifted the freezing mage and started a slower walk back. He could see a commotion start up as Cassandra arrived at the camp; people were made aware that they had found their Herald, that she was in a bad way and needed help. It was a mark of how many people she had likely unknowingly affected that nearly everyone was rushing around to get things ready and to try to help her however they could.

"Hold on, Trevalyan, hold on," Cullen murmured as he hurried as fast as he could through the thick snow back to camp. By the time he arrived the others had organized a camp tent for her. Outside Dorian was heating flasks of water with his fire magic and passing them to Cassandra, who carried them inside, no doubt adding them to the bed to prewarm it. 

They attracted a lot of stares as Cullen carried Trevelyan through the campsite, and most of them were stares of worry, though a number also held amazement in their expressions. Here was their Herald, the one who had risked all for them to escape, faced down a monster alone, been buried by an avalanche, and was still here for them, even if she was so frozen as to be near death. In truth, it was starting to make a believer out of Cullen as well. There were just too many coincidences and while he was willing to believe that it was coincidence that had given Trevelyan the mark and got her out of the Fade, it was getting harder and harder to believe that coincidence was all it was when she, a Circle-sheltered mage, perhaps the most unprepared person imaginable for the task, succeeded time and again. And here she was again, alive, barely three hundred meters behind them. Now they just had to get her warm and tend to whatever injuries she had from her ill-fated fight with Corypheus and maybe, just maybe, they could at least get through this latest setback. 

Entering the tent Cullen was hit by a wave of heat. It was as though there were a bubble around the tent trapping the heat within it, which he supposed could very well have been the case as Solas was there with a magical fire flickering in the centre of the room that gave off heat but no smoke. "Here," Cassandra said, pulling back the blankets and furs that covered a camp bed. Cullen laid her down on it and, covering her, started rubbing her limbs, trying to get some warmth back into them. 

Dorian came in then, carrying a teapot in one hand and a cup in another. The teapot glowed slightly as Dorian heated it with magic then poured some steaming tea into the cup and passed it over to Cullen. "Sit her up and try to get this into her," he said. He sniffed then and his nose twitched. Rubbing it, he sniffed again, then let off no less than six sneezes in a row.

"Don't tell me you're getting sick now," Cassandra said, raising an eye brow at him.

Dorian rubbed his nose again, eyes now streaming. "Is there a cat in here?" he asked, looking around, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"A cat?" Cassandra repeated.

Cullen had been ignoring them until now, more focussed on manoeuvring Trevelyan into reclining against him so that he could wrap his cloak around her and keep her warm while trying to get her to drink the tea to warm her from the inside out. But as though hearing Dorian ask about a cat, there was a sudden movement inside Trevelyan's shirt and a furry head popped out of her neck. 

"I knew it!" Dorian declared. "Get that thing out of here, would you?"

"It must have been keeping her warm," Solas said from where he sat minding the fire. "Probably what kept her alive this long."

"The cat stays," Cullen said, putting the cup aside briefly to lift the cat out of Trevelyan's shirt, doing his best not to touch her inappropriately, and putting it on her lap. 

"Then I go," Dorian said. "Call me if you need me, and when that cat is gone," he said as he left, another three sneezes escaping as he did so.

The cat seemed quite content to sit in amongst the furs on Trevelyan's lap, its claws rhythmically coming in and out as it purred and kneaded away. Cullen ignored it in favour of trying to coax Trevelyan to drink. He managed to get two cups into her, her throat instinctively swallowing what he slowly tipped into her mouth, before a hand rose and clumsily swatted the cup away, spilling what was left of it everywhere. 

"She must be coming around slightly," Cassandra said from where she was kneeling at the foot of the bed, rubbing Trevelyan's feet. With a grunt of disgust she added, "She will be lucky if she doesn't lose any toes. Solas, are you able to heal them?"

"Not if the flesh is already dead," he said, but he stood to have a look. Cullen couldn't see what her feet looked like from where he sat, but he saw a shining blue light come from where his hands hovered over her feet. After the light died out, he said, "Her blood should flow more easily now. She has other injuries too, likely from the fight with Corypheus, or from the avalanche itself. Broken ribs and a badly sprained wrist most notably. I can't heal that but I can help with the pain when she wakens. Adan will likely be able to strap them so they heal best as well."

"I'll send him in once she wakes up," Cassandra said. Standing, she covered Trevelyan's feet back up with the blankets and furs. "Why don't you get some rest. I'll watch her for a few hours, then you can take over. I think she should have someone she knows and trusts nearby when she wakes up." 

Cullen nodded and gently, carefully, returned Trevelyan to a lying position, pulling the covers up over her, high over her neck and over the cat as well who didn't seem to mind in the least. For a moment he simply stared at her face. Her cheeks were pink now and, while her lips were still a little blue, they had a lot more colour in them than before. Softly he reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face, then sighed and straightened. "Call me as soon as she wakes up," he said before he left the tent, Solas trailing behind him. How he was supposed to sleep he had no idea, but he would try, if only so he could be awake and with Trevelyan when she eventually woke.

***

_Corypheus lifted her in the air, his mouth moving, saying words, but she couldn't understand him. It hurt, her hand felt like it was burning, like it was being torn at from the inside out, like it was five times as big and roughly, brutally stretched that way._

"Trevelyan, it's alright, calm down."

_She heard a voice, words, but she couldn't string the words together, couldn't make them make sense. The voice was wrong though, it was coming out of Corypheus's mouth but it wasn't his voice. It was wrong, it was all wrong._

"It's just me. Calm down, you're having a nightmare. It's not real, wake up."

_The words came from Corypheus's mouth again, but they were still wrong. Something about a nightmare? It was a nightmare, everything was going wrong, by choosing the mages she had abandoned the templars to be infected with red lyrium, they were killing hundreds, all her fault. And Corypheus was speaking again. He swung her, she held helpless in his grasp. She flew through the air, right towards the trebuchet._

Azalea screamed as her arm flung wide. It was caught, but it wasn't the harsh claws of Coryphus that held her, but warm, calloused hands. Her eyes flew open but what she saw wasn't what she expected. She expected... What? What had happened? "Where am I?" she asked, her voice sounding panicked even to her ears.

"You're with the Inquisition, in camp. It's alright, you're safe now," a voice said. A gentle, familiar voice. It was tinged with worry, but it was comforting too. A face slowly came into focus, a familiar face. 

"Cullen," she breathed, relaxing a little.

He smiled, relief plain on his face. "Yes, I'm here," he said. "We found you in the snow, freezing. But you're safe now." 

He reached out, using a cloth to gently wipe away the fear sweat that was on her brow. Azalea closed her eyes at his touch, though they opened once more when the cloth was brought away. She reached out and took hold of his wrist, stilling it's movement. "Please, just... just hold me. Only for a little while," she said.

Cullen's eyes widened in surprise at the request, but he put the cloth aside and gently took her in his arms, letting her rest against his chest. She felt so small in his arms, so frail, and Solas had said she was injured as well. He held her lightly, careful not to hurt her further, but she seemed not to notice any pain, her eyes drifting closed and a hand grasping the shirt he wore. She was asleep again, so quickly, but at least this time it seemed to be a natural sleep. 

The tent opened then and Bull ducked in, his head held low in the tent, his sword drawn. "We heard a scream," he said.

"It's alright. Was just a nightmare," Cullen said, a little colour rising to his neck at being caught holding the Herald like this. 

Bull, never missing anything, gave a cheeky grin. "I'm sure you'll do a good job comforting her," he said.

Cullen scowled a little at that, but said only, "Could you please send Adan in? She's injured and he should be able to help."

Bull nodded and left the tent, and, thank the Maker, he did so without waking Trevelyan up again. She needed rest and sleep, they all did really, but her most of all. And if holding her close meant she could get it and the nightmares would stay away, well that was what he would do, all night if required.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be funny if one of the inner circle was allergic to cats and for some reason it just seemed right that it be Dorian. Hopefully I got his tone and attitude right :)


End file.
